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His skin tastes like metal, like the springlocks that scarred his skin are still there. You drag your tongue over his slender neck and sigh hungrily at his moan. He's sensitive here, over the side of his throat. You want to suck a hickey into it. You could probably get away with it too, if you're careful to only do it over the scars.
It's not like his wife will look.
He's grinding his hard cock against your nice pants. You don't mind a bit. You love it when you can bring out the slut in him. All you ever want is for him to be your whore. It's adorable when he gets like this, hungry and wanting and slithery in your arms because of it.
He grunts in desperate little whines as he writhes. He's naked, but you're still clothed, dressed in the smart, bright suit he put you in. He seems to like the garish salmon thing if his leaky cock says anything. You wonder how a man so creatively focused can like such a hideous suit, but it's no matter, really. You win either way.
"Off," he moans, frustrated. My bratty bottom, you think, amusement thick in your thoughts. "Now."
Endeared, you laugh. "No," you tell him against his skin. "I think I'll fuck you with it on."
He glares, but his lips are smiling. He really likes that idea.
"I—" He swallows. "I got ready for you. Earlier today."
"You stretched yourself out for me?" You kiss the beautiful scars that adorn his throat like jewelry. "You're ready to take my cock?"
He hums happily. "Yes. And I'd like to do so within the next century, if you please."
You can't help but laugh again. "Brat," you murmur fondly.
But you're impatient too, even more than he is. You take your dick out of your pants and tap his bare thigh with your thick cock. His skin is warm, but feels almost cool against the heat of your dick. You really are equally as desperate.
"Spread."
William brings up one of his legs like a ballerina, gripping onto your shoulders intensely for balance. He looks at you with molten silver eyes, all pretense gone. How adorable.
"Good boy," you tell him. He'd never admit it, but he loves to hear those words. His smile is blinding.
You line up your dick with his hole and push inside, using the counter you have him pressed against for leverage. He wasn't lying; there's a moment of resistance, just a moment, and then you slide inside easily.
You can't bite back the moan that leaves you. His velvety hot asshole grips you just right. "I fuckin' love your pussy," you groan into his neck.
"Shut the fuck up." But his words are a desperate moan too.
There's no more words. You do remain silent, other than the animal groans of pleasure passed between you two. God, it feels good. Fucking his guts to bruising is one of your favorite thing to do. You want to leave him gaping. You want him dripping your cum all the way back home. You want him to sleep beside his wife with the imprint of your hands on his thighs. You want him to go to work with the ghost of your balls still slapping his taint.
You want to fuck him until there's nothing left of his mind but the slut you've made of him.
You do your best to do just that. The angle is a little strange, you'd rather take him to bed or against the floor, but standing is enough. You thrust and he thrusts back, riding you, chasing your cock. You're hitting him just right; his happy little grunts are rhythmic, timed perfectly with your cock's head rubbing his prostate. You keep your face buried in his neck, kissing and nipping, so he can't see how good you feel. Your face is hot, your neck is hot—your eyes nearly water from the pleasure. His hole grips you perfectly, as always. You moan and fuck him harder.
He whines and struggles to keep your pace. He manages it, however. He's William, after all. Nothing gets in the way of what he wants, not even himself.
He cums untouched. At least, unless you count the way the fabric of your suit was rubbing against his cock. You don't notice at first that he's finished, until you hear his sweet moans turning to hissing gasps. He's stained your nice suit. You won't be dry cleaning this, you think, grinning.
You're not far behind. After a few more minutes of desperate fucking, you grab a fistful of his hair and fill his ass with your cum. Your thrusts slow when you do, pumping unevenly to ride out the full measure of bliss. When you open your eyes, he's staring back at you, gray eyes alight. His smile is beautiful.
You shower together and for once he lets you be tender.
Afterwards, he dresses himself. Gray pants, purple shirt, gray vest, yellow tie. He dries his hair with a hair dryer he bought specifically for your place. And then he leaves. He doesn't stay the night. He never stays the night. Of course he doesn't; what would his wife think of his absence?
You lay awake in your bed and think, I will take him from you.
He will be yours. Eventually. His poor wife doesn't stand a chance.